


Scenes With Michiko

by uhmelle



Category: Kazuchika Okada - Fandom, Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhmelle/pseuds/uhmelle
Summary: Scenes from Kazuchika’s life as a father.





	Scenes With Michiko

His cheeks hurt. Muscles sore, teeth bared to the air more times than he could count. Adrenalin pumped through his veins the same way it did before a match. His wife doing all the work while he offered little more than positive reinforcement and a hand to squeeze. Any moment now, less than a handful of pushes, and there she would be.

Michiko came into the world wailing, a shock of black hair atop her head, already – in the eventual long line of unamused moments in her life – completely annoyed with the situation. Kazuchika cut the umbilical cord, letting his shaky hands rest then in his wife’s, kissing her sweaty forehead. He sniffed away his tears.

She’d been fed and burped and had promptly fallen asleep, after her journey he couldn’t blame her, and in the small hours of the morning he held her close to his chest. He unwrapped her swaddling blanket, counted each finger and toe, and then again, studied the smooth plump of her cheeks, smoothed her puff of hair flat only for it to bounce up again.

“Michiko.” He smiled down at her, her soft face oblivious in sleep. She shifted momentarily, his brain freezing up for a second, until she settled into his chest.

                                                     _..._

Three hours. Like clock work, his eyes snapped open to the sound of Michiko’s still new cries filling the apartment. He sighed, putting a hand on his wife’s arm as she sat up.

“I’ll get her.”

He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and stumbled over to the crib in the corner of their room. Neither could see sleeping away from her, it was never a subject of discussion. Steady hands still getting used to the routine changed her diaper despite her wiggling protests, which quieted none even as he spoke softly to her.

He put her against his bare chest, taking the few feet to the bed in a dance to try and calm her before handing her over to her waiting mother. Michiko had taken naturally to the breast; a blessing when she had an absolute lack of patience when it came to her needs being met. Any anxieties he’d had about that issue, from the countless baby books that filled the prior 9 months, had been quelled when his girls has taken to one another like they had been doing this for ages.

He snuggled against his wife’s shoulder, turned to watch the infant blink slowly as her belly filled and her annoyance waned. Awe had over taken him in the last ten days. Even on little sleep and a tour looming like a ghoul in the corner of the room, he’d lost hours in her presence. Amazed at what they created.

“I know it’s early, and I’m probably so sleep deprive I’m drunk,” his wife whispered as he ran his fingers over Michiko’s back. “But I don’t ever think I’ll get over this.”

Kazuchika cracked a smile but said nothing.

                                                     _..._

He knocked on the door tentatively. “Cover up, I have a very important guest.”

A moment passed, bouncing the wide eyed baby in his arms before he pushed through the door. “Introducing Okada Michiko: future Rainmaker.”

The room erupted with muted cheers, his friends and brothers coming to crowd around the duo. Michiko, a month old and hardly caring about anything less than mama’s milk and a dry diaper, studied the group in their cooing voices with little amusement. Someone had already made a crack about her having the Rainmaker face down pat. Gedo, already more than acquainted with the baby, stood to the side, laughing quietly to himself at the way Kazuchika’s proud smile never faltered for a second.

“She’s gorgeous, man.” Rocky complimented, letting her clasp a hand around his finger.

“Michiko, this is Rocky-San. He’s tiny, just like you!”

__..._  
_

“Papa!”

A grin spread across his face as he sat down in the locker room. Sweat took its part in messing his hair, still sticking his skin, his lungs finally coming to a normal rhythm.

“Papa, you did so good! I knew you could do it!” Still the biggest Rainmaker fan in the world, Michiko babbled excitedly into the phone. “But why does that Kenny guy with the ugly hair keep bothering you?”

He laughed out loud. “Some people are very determined, Michi. Can you put your mama on for a minute?”

“No! I’m sorry, I mean, could we get on the video, just for minute? I wanna show you my favorite parts!”

__..._  
_

Watage strolled into the kitchen, his face going straight for the water bowl. The fur on his head adorned with strategically placed, matching bows.

“Why does the dog have bows in his hair?” Kazuchika questioned.

“Papa, anybody can be pretty.”

__...__

Her feet slapped against the hard floor in quick succession. She giggled, her father taking long strides to keep up with her, a game to her as she sped down the hall.

“Michi-chan!” She was scooped up into the arms of Rocky Romero, a frequent playmate whenever they were anywhere in the same vicinity. “Where were you going, huh?”

She squealed loudly, Kazuchika coming to stand at their side. “Chicchai!”

Rocky sighed, his nickname cemented for months, but none the less ridiculous, while Kazuchika stifled his boisterous laugh.

__..._  
_

“I don’t want this.”

“Michiko, it’s a perfectly fine meal—”

“It has those green things in it.”

“You like green onions.”

“No, I took them out last time. The cat didn’t want them either.”

The old man frowned his brow at her, stern it ways he’d learned raising his own two boys would get them to obey. But he had never raised a girl. He has never raised a _half_ Japanese girl with a western mother and whose influence was apparent.

“You will eat the food your grandmother made. Y-”

“Michi,” Kazuchika leaned down to her in the seat beside him. “Why don’t you go and fetch your book you wanted to tell grandma about, okay?”

He watched her obey enthusiastically and take off into the other room. When he turned back, his parents looked less than pleased.

“My boys would have never.” His father shook his head, taking a bite from his bowl.

His mother, somewhat softer, interjected, “You know we love Michiko, Kazu. She’s just so…strong willed, and it doesn’t help giving in to her all the time. You must have a firm hand with children. Your-”

He acknowledged her sage wisdom through nods and soft agreements, everything he had been taught as a good son. But his mind was elsewhere as Michiko came into the room, her eyes lit up as she looked at the cover of her book, even if her face stayed unaffected.

So she didn’t want her soup, big deal. She was funny and sweet, with an independent streak and a selective vetting process for who and what she spent her time on. Little bits of her mother, of himself, shown through in everything she did. Perhaps it was his soft heart or his pride, perhaps it was both, but there was nothing wrong with her strong will.

__..._  
_

“Doctor! Doctor!” He sobbed dramatically. “Please, he needs help!”

Michiko put the plastic pieces of her stethoscope into her ears, carefully placing the end onto Watage’s chest. “What happened to him?”

“He fell down! Oh please Okada-Sensei, can you help him.” Kazuchika clapped his hands together, as if pleading with the little girl.

“I can. But I will need your help.”

“Whats the treatment?”

“Ice cream, with lots of chocolate sauce.”

He kept himself from laughing, being polite to the esteemed stuffed animal surgeon in his presence. “But, dogs can’t have either of those things!”

The golden chow chow yawned, uninterested in their game. Michiko sighed as she put the stethoscope around her neck. “We’ll just have to eat it for him.”

__..._  
_

Michiko had been avoiding him all day. Fresh home from a tour, she was usually the first person to greet him (followed almost simultaneously by Watage, and then when they were finally finished, his wife was allowed) Instead she had told him hello from across the room while the dog circled him, and accepted his hug only half heartedly.

He’d given her space, whatever emotional roller coaster a 5 year old could be on he assumed he couldn’t last long. But when it stretched through dinner, past bed time (a request for a story specifically from mom) and into the next day, he sat her down.

Her eyes glued to the floor as he knelt in front of her. “Michi, do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Did something happen?”

Another negative.

“Did I do something?” he finally asked.

She let her eyes move finally up to meet his but said nothing.

“Is it because I was on tour? Did I miss something important?”

Michiko sighed loudly. “I saw you!” He went to open his mouth but her determined hands came up to emphasize her point. “I saw you playing with the other kids in that card commercial!”

Kazuchika often had to quell his laughter, careful not to hurt the dramatic but very real emotions in her mind. “Do you remember when we talked about make believe?”

She sighed again, nodding.

“How I sometimes have to act mean in the ring? Well, anytime I’m on TV it’s like that.” He wanted to to comfort her, but held back, her body language still cold. “If I could stay here and play all day I would. Plus, there’s no kid better at playing doctor.”

“You mean that? No joking?”

“No joking.”

“Well, I guess there’s no better dad at tea parties, either.”

__..._  
_

Braiding hair was not that hard. A somewhat mindless repetition of under and over, muscle memory at the end of the day. Get the right ratio of hair, maintain the desired tightness, and don’t lose your strands. Hair done and out of the way.

But the first time she’d asked him his brain tensed up.

Braiding…hair.

He’d seen his mother quickly rid his sister of her bothersome bob that way, but he’d never given it more than a passing glance. He’d watched his wife turn her locks into waves with a French braid. But again, it was just background scenes.

“Papa doesn’t know how to do that, Michi,” he sighed to the hopeful eyed little girl

The feeling of uselessness crept up on him. If she wanted something procured with the swipe of a card, that he could do. A day at the zoo, a trip to an amusement park, front row, no waiting, done and done. An extra book before bed even though she should’ve been asleep a half hour before, those were the moments he lived for. But a super human wrestler with money and muscle to spare, his hands still couldn’t do the simple task his child was asking.

“It’s okay, papa.” Michiko’s small voice still unwavering as she grabbed a hairband and pushed her bangs back. But he stood as she secured her backpack around her shoulders. “It’s almost time to go!”

He simply pressed his lips together and followed suit, knowing the plan for his morning already. And by the evening, his youtube history was filled with tutorials.


End file.
